The Proposal
by SlipperyQuill
Summary: In the aftermath of the final battle, Harry is free to love Ginny but he soon realizes he wants her forever. Unhappy with the Wizarding way to propose, Harry must come to a compromise.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and these characters belong to Rowling.**

THE PROPOSAL

_The day after Voldermort's death._

Seeking refuge, Harry returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, which was ironically overwhelmed with swarms of visitors, all of whom seemed determinedly oblivious to Harry's desire to be left alone. They Apparated in front of Mrs. Black's portrait at all hours of the day and night, taking advantage of the Fidelius charm's end.

Within minutes of Harry entering the house, Stan Shunpike turned up to shake Harry's hand and follow him around the rooms. "Even them dementors ought to be scared o' you, Harry!" he cried at various intervals. Harry got the impression that Stan thought of him as an amulet, reserving the ability to keep away Azkaban and its guards.

As soon as possible, Harry shook him off and asked the gathered witches and wizards to leave. "I…er….need to sleep," he said to the mass of robes currently congregated in his living room. They stared at him in awe, almost shocked that he was human enough to require rest.

Mrs. Weasley stood up and began to shoo everyone away. "You heard the boy! Out! All of you! Don't you have family to celebrate with?" Her eyes were red from sobbing over George. Short as she was, she towered over them all with a terrifying expression.

Ron turned to Harry and muttered, "I'll go and fetch Buckbeak from Hagrid's. He'll get these boogers out of here in no time." Fortunately, the visitors soon filed out into the street, hefting crates of firewhiskey and shouting with unrestrained glee. Staying in one place at a time such as this seemed impossible for the bouncing wizards. Muggles either glared at the oddly dressed procession or looked after it with amusement. Harry thought he heard a child outside the window shout, "Mum, there's a pig in the air! Look, he's doing cartwheels!"

"Of all the…" Mrs. Weasley's expletive made Hermione blush.

It seemed that vanquishing the Dark Lord had propelled Harry to a greater level of stardom than ever, but Mr. Weasley came to the rescue a few hours later when his charm to ward off unwanted Apparators came into effect.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry said fervently as a loud bang sounded on the porch steps. Another Apparator had been caught unawares and might soon find himself on a cliff ledge in Timbuktu. The thought did not worry Harry in the least.

"No worries, Harry," said Mr. Weasley haggardly. He, Harry, Ron, Hermione, were sitting at the kitchen table as Mrs. Weasley and Kreacher bustled about among the frying pans. Harry had refused an offer to live at the Burrow, expressing his preference for Sirius's house, which he now called home. For the time being, most of the Weasley's seemed reluctant to return to the Burrow as well-- too many memories, Harry supposed.

Ron watched his mother uneasily, knowing she could burst into tears at any moment. "Mum, I'll do that." He got up and began to peel the potatoes as his mother's watery eyes brimmed over. Hermione looked at Ron with a soft emotion in her eyes, prompting Harry to look away. He missed Ginny too much, but she was consoling Fred back at the Burrow while her parents were away. Like Harry, Fred wanted to be home.

The thing was…Harry had not spoken to Ginny since he asked her to leave the Room of Requirement and…

He had something to say.

--  
Nothing could rival the feel of Ginny in his arms, her flowing red hair tickling his face. The entire year, Harry had pushed memories of her away, deflecting them from his mind and trying to focus on his task. He knew it was pointless to dream of what could never be. Yet Ginny had effortlessly invaded every thought and feeling in Harry's mind. She kept him sane in the darkest hours, teaching him to hope for something better. The idea of returning to her became more than a dream—it was a constant prayer.

Heart thudding, Harry stood clouded by shadows in the corner, eyes fixed upon the fireplace. It began to emit oddly fragrant fumes and splutter like a teakettle.

Harry's body tensed as if to spring. The splutters ended within a second and a shock of red hair greeted him from within a wall of green flames. Ginny Weasley stepped out onto the hearth with a devastatingly gorgeous frown. A trickle of blood flowed from a gash on her forehead. She patted soot off her Muggle jeans, rubbed away some congealed blood, and grimaced at her gathered family. Ron walked towards Ginny with Hermione at his side. Harry's heart stopped.

"How'd you—?" Ron began, motioning to her wound.

"Fred accidentally got me with a saucepan." Ginny's voice was low and worried. "Demolishing the kitchen has become daily routine. I made the mistake of interfering with it today."

Abruptly, the fireplace resumed its spluttering and another mass of green flames erupted within. Fred Weasley made his way into the room. "Sorry 'bout that, Ginny," he said with only a ghost of a smile on his ashen face. Eight days had clearly only been enough to dry up his tears.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley grasped Fred's shoulders and pulled him into a mournful hug. Their son had arrived for George's funeral.

Ginny smiled warmly at the sight. She bore the unmistakable sign of grief that plagued her entire family, but she was currently glancing around the room with hopeful eyes.

Of their own accord, Harry's feet took him out of the shadows. Something inside of him spilled open at the sight of Ginny and filled him with a warm tingling.

"Ginny," he murmured.

With surreal strength, Harry yanked Ginny off the hearthrug and embraced her graceful figure. Pulling her tightly against his chest, all Harry could do was breath in the flowery scent of her. For a full minute, they simply stood there, Harry unwilling to yield his grasp on Ginny in the unusually silent room. She held him just as forcefully, her fingertips practically digging into his back.

A sniffle sounded from behind them, and Harry reluctantly turned around, one hand still clasped protectively around Ginny's waist.

Mrs. Weasley was gazing at them with surprise etched plainly into her face. She gulped and stepped forward. Harry glanced at Ginny, who was blushing for the first time in years. He had forgotten that Mrs. Weasley knew nothing of his previous relationship with her only daughter. Nevertheless, he met her gaze evenly.

Gulping again, Molly Weasley opened her mouth and shut it. Harry spotted Hermione fidgeting beside Ron. Both of them looked like they wished a hole would open up before them. Harry took the opportunity to frankly say, "I love Ginny, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sorry. I know this is a bad time to say so, but there it is." His voice rang across the room, but oddly enough, there was no fear in it.

No one spoke, and then George slapped Harry's back. "Ha! It's about time!" he said, clutching his side and laughing weakly. Mrs. Weasley broke into a watery smile.

For his part, Harry didn't answer. Ginny had pulled him into a deep kiss.

--  
Five years later.

There was no way to do it. Harry slammed his fist against the table and pushed the small pile of books away from him. The pristinely new copy of _It's All about the Chocolate_ dropped onto the floor with a thud. A lovesick and velvety voice floated out of it, exclaiming, "Of course I will!"

Harry almost puked. He couldn't help but be confused by the wizarding way of proposing: conjuring mountains of green chocolate with a ring balanced at the top, having a cupid sing a special song, and finally spitting out the question. Harry didn't like any of it.

"Ugh," he moaned.

"Harry, what are you doing, mate?" Ron's voice echoed in the hall.

This was not the time for visitors. Harry found himself regretting giving Ron a copy of the house key. He waved his wand at the books. They disappeared into the trunk at the foot of his bed.

"In here, Ron!" he called.

--  
Heading out of the Auror's Office, Harry checked his pocket watch for the twenty-third time.

Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt winked as he entered the elevator and spotted Harry. "Any special plans this evening?" his deep voice inquired.

Harry glanced at him suspiciously. "No, but Ginny's coming over for dinner."

"Might I come as well?"

Harry was taken aback. Suspicious behavior indeed. "Er—."

"Only teasing," Kingsley said, chuckling. He stepped out with another wink.

Luna appeared at Harry's shoulder. "Don't mind him," she said in her dreamy voice. "He knows personal things these days. Maybe it's because he's Minister. I find him quite odd. "

Harry just stared at her. "Um…so how is the Department of Mysteries these days?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Later, as he stood in the Ministry of Magic fire and bellowed, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place", Harry couldn't help but think Luna was well suited for her job. She was a mystery all on her own.

--  
The doorbell sent shivers down Harry's spine. Wearing a new red towel, Kreacher rushed to answer the door. He cried happily, "Ms. Ginny is here!"

Harry heard Ginny's cheerful voice and broke out into a nervous sweat.

"Hey, Kreacher," she said. "You look good."

"No, Miss is the one who looks beautiful tonight. Kreacher has prepared a special dinner in her honor," Kreacher croaked with reverence. Harry, strolling into the hall, saw him sweep a deep bow and walk to the closet with Ginny's cloak. She wore a simple cotton blue dress cut just above the knees.

Ginny turned to Harry with an easy smile just as his lips descended on hers. He kissed her softly for a moment, all his fears melting away as she clutched his hair.

Harry pulled away to stare down at her. Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were flushed.

"How was work?" she asked, holding his hand as they walked to the kitchen. Fires crackled merrily in every room as snowflakes drifted speedily to the ground outside the windows.

Harry sighed. "I apprehended Dedalus McCormy outside of Madame Pudifoot's. He attacked Stan Shunpike with the Cruciatus Curse, the poor bloke. Can't catch a break, can he? Dedalus turned on me with the Imperius Curse, though," Harry said grinning at the memory. "Stupid thing to do, really."

Ginny shook her head as they sat on the oversized plush armchair placed in the kitchen. "How was he supposed to know you're the only wizard that can resist being Imperiused?" She laughed. "I would have Imperiused you at Hogwarts, but I didn't have the guts."

Harry watched her swing a bunch of fiery curls across her shoulder and said, "I wouldn't have resisted if it were you doing the controlling."

She turned to him with a crooked smile. A sly look passed across her face. "Oh, yeah? What would you have let me do?"

Something erupted in the pit of Harry's stomach as he held Ginny to his chest. It was almost a predatory feeling. He wanted this woman to be his and only his. Forever. He had already given himself up entirely to her power. Honestly, she could chain him to a wall, and he would comply happily as long as she visited his cell often.

"You could do whatever you like right now, and I wouldn't object. No curse necessary." He pulled her soft body closer. "Of course, I wouldn't press charges either way."

"Master?" Kreacher appeared bearing a tray laden with plates of fresh fruit. Ginny giggled at the intrusion.

Harry looked at him half-exasperatedly and half-gratefully. "Come on, Kreacher. You can call me Harry." He was careful not to make it an order. He now wanted Kreacher to be comfortable— not forced to be so.

The house elf simply smiled and left the tray on the coffee table in front of Harry and Ginny. Harry watched him flipping a steak on the stove and gulped. "Um…Ginny, let's take a walk in the garden, okay?"

"Sure, Harry." They stood up and walked to the door leading outside. "Has it stopped snowing, though?"

When her head was turned, Harry motioned to Kreacher. The elf suppressed a squeal and Disapparated with a crack.

In the garden, a cream-colored canopy composed of netting allowed only small amounts of powdery snow to filter through, protecting against the true snowstorm. Rows of glistening flowers smiled up at the sky. Kreacher had planted them a year ago as congratulations for Harry's promotion to Head of the Auror's Office. Red and gold flowers now bloomed at five times their natural size among the velvety green leaves. Unlike other nights, flickering candles peeped through the bushes, illuminating the scene with a honey-like glow.

Harry wiped a bit of sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes stared determinedly at the ground. He was not a natural romantic. Conjuring the dang netting had taken all the Transfiguration knowledge he had. He sent a silent thanks to Professor McGonagall and hoped he had not overdone it.

Ginny didn't move for a moment. She leaned lightly against Harry as she took in the scene. "It's beautiful, Harry," she breathed. Pressing her lips to his forehead, she stroked his cheek softly. "Thank you."

Relieved, Harry walked down the path leading through blood red roses, with his arm resting comfortably across Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny sniggered. "Hermione's going to kill Ron in a fit of envy when I tell her you did this. Maybe I should just blackmail Ron instead," she mused.

"I say blackmail Ron. Better for you and him. I think he'd rather be at your mercy than hers."

"So, what's the occasion?" she asked abruptly.

Harry's heart seemed to flutter in his throat as he thought of an answer. "Well—."

"No occasion necessary though," Ginny said, taking it out of his hands. She knew him too well than to discomfit him.

"Actually," Harry began. "There is."

"Oh?" Her long lashes brushed against her cheek when she blinked in surprise. The moonlight accentuated her full mouth, which pulled up in a half smile. A purplish faerie flittered in circles around her right shoulder. Ginny stepped closer to Harry in the middle of the garden. To her greater surprise, Harry stepped back.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Ginny, I have to do this the Muggle way. It…it's the only way I know how."

She stared at him in confusion, possibly feeling rejected. "Harry, I don't understand." He sank to his knees on the squishy grass. Ginny continued to look confused.

"Ginny, we haven't exactly led carefree lives. I know I broke your heart a few years ago, but I never took mine back." Harry's voice was throaty, heavy with emotion.

Ginny's eyes seared him, openly wondering where this was leading. "You know I wanted to give you a whole life, not a short one connected with Voldemort. It's been said that personal affection is a luxury you can afford only once all your enemies are dead. I've made sure mine are gone forever, which leaves—you and me."

She gasped in understanding.

Harry took her hand. The words were coming easier now. "Ginny Weasley, no matter what you say, I will always be yours. Will you make me the same promise by doing the honor of marrying me?"  
_  
Crack._

As discussed, Kreacher Apparated beside Harry, on his knees as well. The red towel had been replaced by a glittering silver one, which glowed brightly in the semidarkness. He held out a small black box, opened to reveal a traditional diamond ring.

"I thought I'd add a touch of magic," Harry explained. "Just so this wouldn't be too Muggle-ish."

Ginny stared in stunned astonishment. She fell to her knees, joining them on the ground. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Just say yes."

"Yes."

Harry had never felt such a heartfelt smile grace his face before. Crawling closer to Ginny, he cupped her strong little chin in one hand and held her head with the other. She moaned when he kissed her more fiercely than ever.

Kreacher bounced to his feat and danced around them both uncharacteristically, punching the air and singing, "Harry and Ginny! Harry and Ginny!"


End file.
